


Like A Lie

by Iamalsohere



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Consensual Underage Sex, Gentle Sex, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Past Sexual Abuse, Past Violence, Rape Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:47:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27081409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iamalsohere/pseuds/Iamalsohere
Summary: The young master is good at pretending that he is made of stone, rather than of flesh and blood. But he can only hold that image for so long before he starts to break. So sometimes when they are alone, Ciel asks his butler to comfort him. Sometimes he asks to be held. And sometimes he asks to be defiled.
Relationships: Sebastian Michaelis/Ciel Phantomhive
Comments: 12
Kudos: 177





	Like A Lie

**Author's Note:**

> Title inspired by "I Love You But I Need Another Year", just cos I like the melancholy feel of that song ;w;)/  
> ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IHJBdgpfzMY )
> 
> But yaaaay, this is my first ever Sebaciel fic! I hope you all like it!!

The young master spoke in a clear voice, his back straight and his brow set as he gave the servants their orders. "If there is no blood collection taking place there," he said sternly, "Withdraw and return immediately. However, if there really is evidence of it happening..." He narrowed his eyes and clenched his hands into fists at his side. "Annihilate the entire organisation completely. Exterminate it from existence."

"Yes, my lord," the gathered servants said.

It was an inspiring speech, to be sure. The young master had been paying attention to his elocution lessons, and had been very put together after his last break down when he lost face over the dinner table Lau had so graciously put together for them. It was a good thing, too. It wouldn't do for the young master to shiver and quake as he ordered people to go into enemy territory and put their very lives on the line for him. He gave them their commands, dismissed them, and retreated to his own quarters with a stiff upper lip.

"Will you be wanting a bath tonight," Sebastian asked as he slid the door closed behind the young master.

"No. N- not tonight."

Ah, _there_ was the tremor. The small quiver in the boy's breath, as his tongue tripped over itself in confusion. Sebastian turned slowly to survey his master sinking down onto the bed. The boy in this room was very different to the one who had just ordered a plan of attack. His head drooped forward, his hands fisted in his hair, his knees squeezed together. His breath was shuddering, heartbeat racing. Revealing all the emotions he fought so hard to conceal from everyone.

The smell of adrenaline and cortisol pumping through the master's body gave him a slightly sweeter flavour. Those delicious scents always followed the master. His body was constantly whirring, constantly coiled like a spring ready to explode. Sebastian could always taste it on his back teeth whenever he breathed in the master's scent. The longer the boy held out, kept dancing along this tightrope, the more delicious he would be come the end.

Sebastian helped his master undress for bed, relishing the sweet fragrance clinging to the boy's clothes. How terribly sad for humans to be unable to detect it. They'd only be able to smell the opium clinging to the fabric, unable to find the terror and anxiety that was whispering on the cuffs. The young master kept his head down, raising his arms for Sebastian to pull his nightshirt on. It was slightly too big, hanging open over his clavicle. But it was all they had. The young master was too proud to consider sleeping in one of the girls' nightclothes, or even in nothing at all. Humans' obsessions with clothing was rather cute, really. As if the outer shells could hide the inner flavours of their souls.

Sebastian stepped back from his master and bowed. "Goodnight, my lord. We shall leave for Brighton in the morning so you should get your rest."

As Sebastian turned to leave, his master said, "Sebastian."

The butler stopped, waiting for the next words.

They came in a half whisper, tinged with embarrassment and fear. "Hold me. I command you."

Sebastian smiled as he turned back round. "Of course, my lord."

Human lives were so fleeting and fragile. A candle that could be blown out by someone opening a window on a winter night. A collection of bones and organs and blood and hormones, all packaged into an intricate machine that was impossible to replicate perfectly despite how the Undertaker was trying. And yet even something as simple as a misaligned blood vessel could have the entire body breaking down.

Sebastian had seen so many humans come and go, had had so many contracts with foolish people willing to offer him their soul in exchange for something pitiful in return. He usually filed his current master alongside all of them, hardly of any importance in the grand scheme of things and no different than any other human. But there were times when he was reminded that his young master was just that: young. He had not yet fully matured into a grown human, his body still working to keep growing and keep learning and become a working machine. It was a lot of work to disguise that fact.

But when the doors closed and the curtains were drawn, sometimes the master revealed that he was at the heart still a child. He clung to Sebastian's front and buried his head in the butler's chest, trying to muffle the quiet sobs that leaked out of him. Sebastian sat on the bed, tilting his body back so that the master had a place to lean on, one hand under his knees and the other on his back stroking up and down to soothe him. He could feel every one of the master's vertebrae through his shirt. He could feel the shuddering of his lungs.

The master's voice cracked as he asked, "They won't betray me, will they? They won't leave me after all of this?"

Sebastian looked down at the top of his master's head, then at the door. He knew his master was scared about the loyalty of the servants. But Sebastian shook his head. "No, I don't think so. Lau and Ran Mao are perhaps more mercurial, but your servants are devoted to you. None of them would abandon you without reason."

"Good." Ciel's hands clasped Sebastian's front, fingers worrying the fabric. Sebastian could taste the question burning through his master's tongue, the one he would never bring himself to ask.

_You won't leave me, will you? You won't leave me like everyone else has, won't abandon me to die, won't wish me dead? Sebastian?_

The answer would, of course, be no. The contract had him restrained on that front. Right up until the day that his master died, Sebastian would be at his side. Small reassurance, the loyalty of a demon, but it was there all the same. Perhaps it was that loyalty that meant his master could only rely on Sebastian during these moments where his mask slipped and he retreated back to the state of a scared, anxious child.

There were many times when he acted exactly like an adult human: when he was running his estate, examining his finances and making business decisions. Sebastian had made contracts with humans who wanted wealth, and it was farcical how much this boy was able to outstrip them. Still a child, but shrewd and logical and able to uncannily predict market changes and what the populace would want to buy in coming seasons. 

There were also the times he ordered Sebastian to kill, or when he took up a gun himself to do the deed. He had seen his young master covered in the blood of other humans, had wiped the viscera off of him with the master acting as if it were nothing. He had done things many other fully grown humans would shudder at.

And there were the other ways in which he acted like an adult, and yet like a child all the same. When the doors were locked and the servants were asleep, when nightmares were battering on his master's skull and his head was full of memories of the days before he had met Sebastian, there were times when he asked to be treated as an adult.

Those nights, his master's brain churned with different emotions, different chemicals. Adrenaline, and cortisol of course. Norepinephrine, making his heart hammer against his ribcage. A rush of serotonin when Sebastian touched him, followed by a chill.

"Kiss me."

His master asked that on the nights when he asked Sebastian to be slow, gentle, almost loving. Perhaps on the anniversaries of loved ones, or when his head was filled with melancholy thoughts. Those were the nights when his master was quiet and turned his face away to avoid showing that he was near tears. If there was one thing he hated, it was to be seen crying.

On those nights, he needed to be told that he wasn't hated, that he wasn't alone, that Sebastian and the servants would not leave him. He needed the intimacy that he always denied himself during any other day. Needed for Sebastian to hold him close, tilt his head down, and gently press their lips together. He liked to be kissed that way after Sebastian had been baking. When he still had sugar crystals on his lip for the master's delicate tongue to find.

His body shivered as he was kissed. The small movements let Sebastian know where he needed to place his hands. The master let himself be picked up and lain on the bed, but never to get undressed. If Sebastian's hands strayed to close to the buttons of the master's shirt, his heartbeat would go too fast and his brain chemistry would sour. So Sebastian knew to stay relatively chaste. He cupped his master's face in his hands, smoothed down his hair, ran his fingers down his sides and over his delicate thighs. Kissed his master's lips, his cheeks, his jaw, down his neck to the top of his collar. He kissed his master's wrists, and the tip of each tiny finger. If his master was relaxed enough, Sebastian would remove his shoes and socks to kiss the soles of his feet and nip delicately at his toes. Showing his master that every inch of him was adored.

When he was given the acquiescing nod, Sebastian's hands would slide up his master's thighs to his cock, gently rubbing it through the fabric of his clothes. He would lean down and capture the master's lips again in a kiss, swallowing his tiny gasps and moans, his body squirming and desperate. If ordered, Sebastian's gloved hand would reach into his master's clothes to give him release. If not, he would let the master rut against his leg until he shuddered in pleasure and relief.

Then when his brain was settled, Sebastian would help him undress and change into his night things. He would get into bed, turning over to face away from Sebastian. His ears would be tinted pink as he muttered a goodnight. In the morning, his mask would be back in place.

"Use me."

His master asked that on the nights when he demanded rougher treatment. When he was filled with regret, or self hatred, perhaps after a murder had been ordered or he had had dreams of his kidnapping. Those memories weren't uncommon, but it was rare that the emotions would bubble over to the point he would grab Sebastian by the wrist and make the demands that he found the most shameful.

Those were the nights when he asked to be stripped bare, no need for modesty or chastity. He took Sebastian's hands and placed them on his body, commanding to be touched. Even if the touch made the master's face twitch in disgust, he commanded Sebastian to keep going.

He liked to be fucked on the floor when he was in those moods. On the floor, or bent over his desk, or held up and pressed against the wall. Never on the bed, he hated to be defiled on his bed. But he ordered Sebastian to be rough, using his teeth and his nails to brutalise the master's body. Sebastian did as he was ordered. He would push his fingers into the master's mouth so he drooled over himself, he bit into his master's thigh until the skin broke, he slapped his face and his hands and his rear until he was bruised. He used him like those kidnappers had used him to prepare him for sacrifice.

The master yelled at Sebastian to keep going, to do things harder, that he was a filthy demon and that the master deserved this for all he'd done. Use his ass and fill him up with his foul demon seed. Force the master's mouth open and fuck his throat, even as tears and snot rolled down his face. Finger him roughly, stroking his own tiny cock until he was forced to orgasm again and again, crying and sobbing and shuddering in a mixture of pleasure and pain.

Until some arbitrary line was reached, and he commanded Sebastian to stop. Immediately, Sebastian would let go of the master, sitting back on his knees and not moving. Sometimes this respite was only for a few moments, enough time for the master to catch his breath and wipe his eyes. The master may turn over and demand a different position or a different speed, start the ordeal over again. But sometimes, the master would be done for the night. That was when Sebastian picked the master up and held him until he stopped crying, stroking him and shushing him, perhaps giving him a bath if he required it or simply dressing him for bed. He kept his master safe until he slept.

"You will not tell anyone what happened."

Every single time the mask was back on, that order was given. Sebastian was to pretend it had never happened, that his young master would never debase himself in such a way. He was to act as if his master was an upstanding earl, a pillar of the community, a servant to the queen. As if it was impossible to be all those things and still human at the same time. A human with all of its brain chemicals and blood pumping and twisted up organs and emotions and follies and wants and fears. As if any other human who had been through what the young master had been through could not also so easily make the requests he made. Need the same services he needed.

Humans did so like to pretend they were made of stone through and through. Sebastian knew that it was a thin veneer, easily cracked, and that the delicious sweet human flesh inside was soft as the cry of a newborn. But he pretended for his master's sake that he was infallible.

Back in the opium den, his master crawled under the bed covers and rubbed his eyes. In the morning, the swelling would have gone down and nobody need know he had shown such weakness. Sebastian poured him a glass of water to rehydrate. As he stood up, the master took him by the sleeve.

"Stay here, until I go to sleep," he ordered in a whisper.

"Yes, my lord."

The bed in this back room was not as large as the one they were used to. When Sebastian lay down, the master was forced to curl up against his side. He lay with his hands tucked up at his chin, knees by the stomach, his forehead pressed to Sebastian's shoulder. Sebastian rested a hand on his master's hip, keeping him warm. He listened to the human heartbeat as it echoed through the room. As it slowed down to a steady sleeping rhythm.

Sebastian sighed and shifted on the bed. He slowly lifted his hand to his mouth and pulled off the glove. When he gently brushed his fingers over his master's cheek, the master didn't stir. Sebastian cupped his master's face. He was so small. So breakable. His smell was so sweet. Sebastian leaned forward so their foreheads were touching and breathed in languidly. He bit his lip as the scent teased him, tempted him. Truly, his master would become a banquet unlike anything he had consumed before. He just needed more time.

"Sleep well, young master," Sebastian said with a smile as he extricated himself from the bed. He smoothed his master's hair down and blew out the lamp. His eyes flashed in the darkness. "I shall be with you always."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments/feedback are very appreciated! And if you want to request fic or just say hi, [feel free to find me on my Twitter :)](https://twitter.com/CornyBunBun)


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